<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>karma by worstgirl</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297394">karma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl'>worstgirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Depression, Gen, Implied Self-Harm, Jeremy-centric, Nope no way, but mostly just angst, definitely not a vent fic, i don’t have the mental energy to proofread, it’s basically just a massive vent and i may delete it later, no romantic relationships, so this is unedited as hell, this is just guilty jeremy hours, very small bits of fluff here and there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“you say that i’m better, why don’t i feel better?”</p><p>~~~</p><p>it’s literally just an angsty jeremy one shot</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeremy Heere &amp; Christine Canigula (referenced), Jeremy Heere &amp; Michael Mell (referenced)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>karma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Everything ached. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It shouldn't ache like this, Jeremy thought. The way his chest throbbed and his head felt like it was stuffed with asbestos couldn’t possibly be good. It wasn't even over anything serious. His mom didn't leave again. His dad was just at work. The voice in his head had been silent for a week. He had a support system now. He was doing better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So why didn't he feel better? He should feel better, he should-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right. 'Should' wasn't good to say. He forgot who told him that. Maybe it was Michael, or Christine, or his dad. Saying how he should feel wasn’t going to help him. He felt how he felt, and that was okay, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it didn't feel okay to him. It felt, to put it bluntly, like shit. It felt like he was pushing himself through normal life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn't even fucking cry. When had that happened? When he was little, all he would do was cry. When he fell, when Michael jokingly teased him, when he got a bad grade, whenever something minor happened. But now he was seventeen, laying full out on his bedroom carpet and staring at the ceiling like it would somehow warp into whatever he wanted to see. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened. There was still a blue streak from where he'd ripped off the glow in the dark stars Michael had helped him put up in actual constellation patterns. That still hurt to look at. But closing his eyes hurt more, so he stared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His earbuds were in, but he didn't have the energy to reach over and play any music. He didn't have any energy at all. He’d run that out, by crying over something stupid and doing things he regretted now. His sides ached, in that odd burning sort of way that he doubted was good. Of course it wasn’t good. He regretted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did a lot of things he regretted. Taking that stupid pill. Leaving the mall without Michael. Kissing Brooke when he knew she was fragile and he’d just end up breaking her heart. Going along with Chloe into Jake’s parents room. Calling Michael a loser. Treating Christine like a prize to be won and not a normal human being. The play. Everything after. The tears, the panic attacks, the feeling of guilt and hopelessness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be the one doing that— well, the guilt was justified. He had almost triggered an entire apocalyptic scenario. But he shouldn’t be the one feeling this shitty. He deserved it, didn’t he? He’d been an awful person. So crying over feeling like shit because his friends didn’t like you anymore was stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shut his eyes, finally, but that just made his head ache even more. He opened them again, letting out a sigh. Maybe he should text a friend, like all those self-help posts told him to do— oh. Right. He’d said he didn’t want anyone to text him, that he felt too upset to respond. That had been… what, three days ago? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeremy tugged his phone out anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>why do i feel empty?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Google brought up a lot of results. The first one was the mental health hotline, and all the following ones were about depression, or other mental illness. Well, that was so helpful. He turned his phone off, letting his hand drop to his side. Holding it up had made him feel even worse, like he had been about to drop it on his face at any moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt a buzz in his hand as he got a notification, and he let it sit there for a second. He should check it, right? He lifted his phone to his face again, using the fingerprint so he wouldn’t have to look at the lockscreen he’d changed on a whim immediately after coming back from the hospital. He’d wanted something that wasn’t chosen by the squip, so he’d pulled up a picture of him and Michael. It hurt to look at right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swiping down from the top of the screen, he could see the notification. He’d ignored the other notifications— mostly just scam emails and colleges who didn’t seem to realize that he was the shittiest idea for a new scholar at their fine establishment. Even if they did offer cookies, like one college had boasted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a text there. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t changed Michael’s name back to what it used to be— some random string of inside jokes and nicknames they’d used since the age of thirteen. It was still just his name, since the squip had made him block his contact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Michael</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey dude, I know…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The preview of the text told him jackshit, so he couldn’t just ignore the text in general. Well, he could, right? His curiosity got the better of him, and he tapped on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey dude, I know you told people </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>not to text you, but I just wanted </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>to check on you. I’m a little worried, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>this is the longest you’ve gone </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>without texting anyone in a while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope you’re doing okay, man. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t have to respond if you </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>don’t feel up to it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Peace, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael had signed off like it was a business email. For some reason, that made Jeremy feel a little amused. He almost smiled, his lips twitching a bit. The only thing that would have made this more Michael was a Bob Marley quote. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, the happy moment didn’t last all that long. His brain immediately took that as proof that he couldn’t possibly be depressed. He wasn’t supposed to be happy. He didn’t deserve to be happy. He should just—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swiped the message away, opening his music, putting the music on shuffle. He didn’t care what was playing, as long as it was loud, and drowned out his thoughts. He’d text Michael later. He hoped so, at least. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight, if he could peel himself up from the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone always told him to be safe. Well, he can’t exactly do anything bad when he’s stuck on the floor with a throbbing head. He shut his eyes, letting the music wash over him. He’d regret this, when he fell asleep on his floor and woke up with back pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a lot of regrets. But someone cared. Maybe he didn’t feel like they should, but someone did care, and that was oddly enough for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t okay. Maybe it wouldn’t ever be “okay.” But for now, this was how it would be. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>heyo so uhh sorry for the overwhelming lack of content for the past,,, couple months. i don’t think i’ve written since then, and i might not write much now. </p><p>it’s been incredibly rough with my mental health recently, which i won’t get into too much detail with here. </p><p>however, once school ends for me, on may 29th, i may be losing access to my ipad which i use to write, so i may be incredibly inactive as well. i love all of you that read my stuff, and those of you who take the time to comment and leave kudos. </p><p>i’ll be back eventually, i promise that. i still enjoy writing, but motivation has been really low. </p><p>again, thank you, and hope you’re all staying safe, staying inside, and washing your hands. </p><p>stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves.</p><p>~ percy</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>